Читать книгу All the Sweet Promises - Elizabeth Elgin - Страница 9

Jane fidgeted with the signal pads on her desk, plucked a thread from the sleeve of her jacket then stared blankly at the chewed end of her Admiralty-issue pencil. What was this phenomenon? Why did everyone sit, breath indrawn, like figures in a tableau? Why this silence, a silence so unexpected and inexplicable that it screamed ‘Listen to me!’ Through the half-open door of the coding office she could see Lofty’s back; beside him Lucinda sat unmoving, her left hand relaxed on a dial.

‘Quiet, isn’t it?’ The sudden dense hush was so uncanny that Jane felt compelled to whisper. ‘Has the war stopped, or something?’

‘It happens.’ Jock shrugged. ‘Sometimes, it’s as if it takes a breathing space.’ Sometimes, he said, no hand depressed a Morse key or lifted a telephone or received a signal, and even the teleprinters, tired of their own unending chack-chacking, switched themselves off. It was only minutes, the duration of that fleeting armistice, but such a stillness was so unaccustomed, embraced a silence so complete that it was always noticed, and wondered at. Such moments happened mostly during the ungodly first hours of a new day, those breathless hours when a soul sighs away from a dying body. They were to be expected in that, the middle watch, when eyes were gritty with tiredness and the air stale and limbs cold, but it was less usual in a busy forenoon watch as this.

‘It’s as if everyone is waiting for something, isn’t it?’

‘I know what you mean.’ Jock blew out rings of cigarette smoke then watched them widen and disappear. ‘It’s just one of those things, so try to remember what it’s like next time there’s a panic on, eh? And there’s no’ a thing you can do about it, lassie, so why don’t you sit back and enjoy it? Or maybe you’d like to watch the boat coming alongside?’

‘Which boat? Is Sparta back from trials?’

‘No. This one’s Taureg, a T-boat. A big one, home from patrol. She’s had a bad time, so the buzz has it. Landed herself in big trouble in the Bay, but managed to get out of it. The skipper and commander are going to be there, so it’ll be caps in the air and three cheers and all that. You might find it interesting. Away with you, now. I’ll let you know when things get going again. Just nip up the steps outside the navigator’s sea cabin. You’ll get a good view from there.’

Reluctantly Jane pushed back her chair. In truth she wasn’t really interested in Taureg’s arrival, but anything that broke the self-imposed purdah of her existence was welcome, she supposed, for she still stood outside the real world, looking in; a part of her still waited in Yeoman’s Lane and none of this strangeness around her was really happening. She wished it were not so. She wanted to come alive again and fall in love again; but that was not possible, for no one but Rob MacDonald would do – and Rob was gone.

‘Okay, Jock. Thanks.’ Smiling, she pulled on her hat. ‘Won’t be long.’

The navigator’s sea cabin was small, wedged between the CCO and the signal deck, and one he seldom used since the depot ship rarely went to sea. Indeed, the whole total of Omega’s movement was a half-swing around her mooring buoy with the incoming tide and a half-swing back again on the ebb. But the view from the coding-office portholes was varied and interesting, a slowly changing panorama for those with time to gaze.

She lifted her face to the sun, half closing her eyes against the silver dazzle that bounced across the water, breathing deeply on the tangle-scented air. The two submarines which had lain alongside Omega at the start of her watch now stood off in the loch, still as two sentries, awaiting Taureg’s arrival, and she wondered how any man could volunteer to serve in such a craft; how he could live in quarters so cramped, with no privacy at all. And that was apart from the danger. So small a boat in so vast a sea. She tried to imagine what it would be like to sink to the sea bed and stay there, calmly, with only a steel hull between a man and the enormous, pressing waters.

I would panic, she thought. My mind would go numb. She who loved the fields and trees and the wideness of the North Riding could not have endured so claustrophobic an existence. She wondered which of the escort vessels would bring Taureg in. She still found it hard to believe that any British ship could be in danger so near to home; even when Jock had explained that unless a submarine was in water deep enough in which to dive, an escort was essential.

‘It’s the Brylcreem boys. Those Coastal Command laddies are inclined to bomb first and ask questions later.’

She hadn’t really believed him, but so much of her new life had still to make sense to her that she had not challenged his statement.

Her eyes swept the broad waters of the loch. Capricious and Lothian, two of the flotilla’s escort frigates, swung at their buoys, which could only mean that the Jan Mayen had gone out to bring the submarine in. She felt a moment of sorrow for the Jan Mayen’s crew: Dutchmen who had brought their little ship to Portsmouth when Holland was overrun by the Nazi armies, choosing to leave their country and fight on with the British Navy rather than give their ship into enemy hands. How sad for those sailors never to receive a letter from home; never to know if the families they had left behind were safe and well and managing to get enough to eat; not even daring to wonder if they were still alive. Yet those people, the fellow countrymen of Jan Mayen’s crew, would put their lives at risk to give help and shelter to British airmen. Foolish, wonderful people.

Tears of pride stung her eyes and she brushed them away with an impatient hand. God, when it’s my turn, please let me be brave, too …

‘Penny for them, Jenny.’

‘Uh? Sorry?’ Startled, Jane’s head jerked up.

‘Tell me what’s making you so miserable. Bad, is it?’

The man at her side wore sea boots and a thick white sweater, and he looked at her with one eyebrow raised, a small, teasing smile lifting the corners of his mouth. And he had called her Jenny.

‘Nothing’s making me miserable.’

‘That’s all right, then. Thought you might be feeling a bit strange. New here, aren’t you. Where do you work?’

‘In the communications office, actually.’ She said it primly, nose tilted.

‘And are you going to like it on Omega, Jenny?’

‘Don’t call me that. My name is not Jenny.’

‘I’m sure it isn’t.’

‘Then why?’

‘Because all Wrens are Jennies. Got to be, haven’t they? My name’s Tom, by the way. Tom Tavey. What’s yours?’

Grudgingly she told him.

‘Then can we start again? Hullo, Jane Kendal.’

‘Hullo.’ She wished Taureg would come and she wished the sailor would go away. He was trying to pick her up, of course, but any Wren new to the flotilla must expect to be fair game, she acknowledged, especially in a base so isolated, where women were outnumbered by fifty to one.

‘Ever seen a submarine get the full treatment when it’s done a patrol?’

‘Afraid not.’ Until a few days ago she hadn’t even seen a submarine. ‘Is there something special about it?’

‘When a submarine’s had a spectacular patrol, yes. Taureg got depth-charged in the Bay of Biscay. A whole pack of German destroyers were after them. They had it pretty rough, by all accounts.’

‘But they obviously made it.’

‘They deserved to. They’d dived, you see, but eventually they had to surface – the air must’ve been getting bad – and up they came, damn nearly alongside a German destroyer the pack had left behind when they called off the hunt, waiting there, just in case Taureg surfaced. And surface she did; too near for the German to train his guns on her but near enough to get her own gun on them. Pumped one straight into the destroyer’s magazine, then took off, the cheeky sods! Laughing like drains, I shouldn’t wonder.’ He grinned. ‘Bet they couldn’t believe their luck.’

‘It isn’t funny, all that killing.’

‘No, Jane.’ The smile was gone in an instant. ‘Necessary, though. It’s them or us, isn’t it? You don’t hang around to say “Sorry, mate.” That’s what war is all about. Anyway, Taureg survived thirty-eight depth charges so she deserves a bit of a cheer. But we’ll know exactly what she’s been up to when we get a look at her Jolly Roger.’

‘Jolly Roger?’ Jane’s eyebrows shot upward. ‘On one of His Majesty’s ships?’

‘That’s right. The pirate flag. All returning submarines fly one if they’ve had a good patrol.’

‘You’re pulling my leg!’ Did he really expect her to believe such Peter Pan and Wendy nonsense. In the Royal Navy?

‘All right, then. Wait till they come alongside.’

She shrugged and stared unspeaking down the loch, and wished again that he would go away.

‘That’s the skipper arriving, and the submarine commander,’ he said, pointing to the well deck below them. ‘Taureg can’t be long now.’

His Majesty’s submarine Taureg came home to base smoothly and smartly, escorted by a frigate of the Free Netherlands Navy. On her fore and after casing, seamen submariners in bell-bottomed trousers and white sweaters stood comfortably at ease; on the bridge stood three officers, smartly dressed.

Jan Mayen gave a salute on her siren, then slipped away to her mooring buoy, leaving the submarine and her crew to savour their homecoming.

The bosun’s pipe whistled shrilly over the Tannoy. ‘Attention on the upper deck,’ commanded the disembodied voice. ‘Face to port.’

Omega’s captain and the submarine commander beside him lifted their hands in salute; heads high, Taureg’s officers returned it as the at-ease submariners snapped as one man to attention.

‘Three cheers for Taureg!’ came the order and once, twice, three times, hats and caps rose in the air and once, twice, three times the assembled well-wishers roared their approval.

So this was how a submarine came back from a successful patrol! And how very understated and very British, with every man of its crew trying not to show how pleased he was or how embarrassed, and quietly thanking the good Lord for getting them out of the mess in the Bay, and if He wouldn’t mind, could some other perishing submarine have the next thirty-eight? And whilst He was on their wavelength, how about a spot of leave …?

‘It isn’t!’ Only then did Jane see the flag. ‘Not the skull and crossbones!’

Tom Tavey laughed. ‘It is.’

‘But you wouldn’t think it would be allowed.’ Grown men on a killer submarine, flying a Jolly Roger! ‘Do they all do it?’

‘All of them.’ He nodded. ‘Every submarine takes one on patrol and someone sews on the bits as they happen. Take a look.’

The youngest of Taureg’s officers was holding out the flag for all to see, proudly proclaiming the success of their patrol and the reason for this, their special homecoming.

‘See the white bars in the top right-hand corner, Jane? They represent enemy ships sunk by torpedoes, and the crossed guns on the left means they’ve been in a surface action – that’d be when they got the German destroyer – and the dagger below is a special operation.’

Unbelieving still, Jane counted the white bars. Three ships sunk on this patrol; three merchantmen sent to the bottom, and thank God Vi wasn’t here to see this! ‘Special operation?’ she murmured.

‘Cloak-and-dagger stuff. Usually picking up an agent from one of the occupied countries, or taking one out. A couple of weeks back there was a strong buzz that Saffron landed one by dinghy into France. A young woman, I believe it was.’ He said it matter of factly, as if it happened all the time.

‘Then let’s just hope that Taureg has brought her back again,’ Jane whispered. What next would be asked of women and what would women do, when at last peace came? Would they, could they, after the sudden heady freedom thrust upon them by war, ever go back to what they had been?

‘You’re doing it again, Jane Kendal. Frowning. Looking chokka.’

‘I’m not. Really I’m not. It – it’s just the way my face is arranged, I suppose.’ Adroitly, she changed the subject. ‘What’s happening now?’

The returning submarine had nosed in to the depot ship’s side, and willing hands on the well-deck rails pulled on her stern lines, easing her closer, making her fast. Now the sentinel submarines were under way again, gently manoeuvring to take up positions alongside Taureg.

‘They’ve stopped engines. That’s the skipper and commander going on board her now. The pink gin’ll be flowing in the wardroom and there’ll be an extra tot for the lower decks, I shouldn’t wonder.’ He glanced down at his wrist. ‘Almost eleven o’clock. You’ll hear the pipe soon, over the Tannoy.’

‘Forgive me, but what’s so special about eleven hundred hours?’

‘What’s so special?’ His face registered disbelief, then his lips parted in a smile. ‘Eleven o’clock is tot time; time for spirit that oils wheels and greases palms and sometimes even settles debts. The rum ration, Jane. Oh, I can see I’ll have to teach you a thing or two about the Royal Navy.’

‘Oh, I know all about that,’ she returned airily, ‘but it’s only a drink of rum, after all …’

‘Lesson one, Wren Kendal. Rum is never drunk. It is sipped or it is gulped; sippers and gulpers, that is. And make no mistake, the rum ration is very important to a matelot; not only to be sipped or gulped, but something to be used for bargaining or the repayment of a favour, or even bottled and taken home on leave. It would be a sad and sorry day for the Navy if ever they stopped it. There’d be mutiny, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘But what about sailors who don’t like rum?’

‘Don’t like …?’ Tom Tavey’s face registered blank disbelief. ‘Well, there might be the odd one or two who’ve signed the pledge,’ he acknowledged, ‘and they get threepence a day on their pay if they don’t draw, as we call it. I’ve never met one, though,’ he added hastily. ‘There now!’ His face brightened as the bosun’s pipe shrilled over the Tannoy: ‘Up spirits! Up spirits!’

‘That’s it, Jane. Tot time. That’s the call for the leading hands to collect the rations from the rum bosun. Best pipe of the day,’ he grinned. ‘See what I mean? Soon cleared the well deck.’

And so it had. Taureg had done well and had received her just and sincere due, but this was tot time, and on board the depot ship Omega, first things came first.

‘Well, thanks for explaining it all to me, but I’ll have to be going too, I’m afraid.’ She turned to walk away, but he stopped her, a hand on her arm.

‘Come out with me tonight, Jane. There’s a good hop on, down in Craigiebur. Or would you rather see a flick?’

‘If it’s Love on the Dole, I’ve seen it, but thanks all the same.’ She’d been right, he was trying to pick her up, which was a pity, really, because she liked to dance. But dancing made her remember a cold Candlemas Eve, and every sentimentally crooned love song reminded her of something that was best not remembered, and she wasn’t ready, yet, to stick out her chin and smile.

‘The dance, then? The band is very good.’

‘Sorry,’ she said, over her shoulder. Tom Tavey was nice, but no, not just yet. And besides, he was altogether too attractive, too sure of his masculinity, and it unnerved her. ‘Sorry,’ she said again.

‘So am I, Jenny Wren.’

Eyes narrowed, he watched her walk away. Maybe she went in for officers, or maybe, he realized, she already had a boyfriend. A good-looker like her probably had half a dozen in tow. And she was good-looking, and intriguing too. Something to do with her eyes and the way they looked at you, yet saw nothing. And as for that red hair! Weren’t redheads all ice on the thatch but with a red-hot fire burning in the hearth? With luck, this one would run true to form. Then, remembering it was five minutes past tot time, he ran down the ladder to the well deck, and away to the spare-crew mess.

She was a little darling, though. Might be interesting to have another try. A girl who looked like Wren Jane Kendal would be worth it. Well worth it …

She turned to watch him disappear down the ladder. He did it nimbly, his feet scarcely touching the narrow steel treads. His shoulders, she tried not to remember, were broad, his skin attractively tanned. Ought she have said yes to his offer of a date, accepted the challenge in those probing blue eyes?

Shrugging, she walked slowly down the ladder. Accept? Of course not. How could she have? He’d called her Jenny, hadn’t he, and no one did that.

She blinked as she stepped back into the office, closing her eyes against the sudden change of light. Jock looked up briefly, then motioned for her to hurry.

‘Come on now, lassie. There’s a rush-immediate to be seen to. K-tables we’ll be needing. You call, I’ll subtract. Chop chop!’

The war had started again, but wouldn’t it be wonderful, Jane thought, if during those brief moments of stillness, no one had been wounded or blinded or burned. And no aircrews reported missing.

The launch headed for Ardneavie jetty and Lucinda sighed contentment. Another watch over, another day of getting it right. To be enjoying the war was very wrong, but her new-found feeling of achievement was akin to joy. She should, she supposed, feel thoroughly ashamed.

‘Got any money?’ she asked Jane, fishing deep into the pocket of her broad canvas belt and pulling out a shilling and three pennies.

‘Not a sausage. Flat broke till payday,’ Jane sighed. ‘Which means we’ll be staying in tonight. Or we could go to cabin 10.’

‘To Lilith’s? Why not? But what about Vi? Think she’ll come?’

‘I don’t know. She was a bit shaken up last night. She thinks Lilith is guessing, and maybe she’s right. But I want to go, Lucinda. There’s something I’ve got to know.’

‘About a man?’

‘Maybe. By the way, you should ask Chief Wetherby to let you watch next time a submarine comes back from patrol. D’you know they actually fly a Jolly Roger? It was fascinating.’

There now, she had admitted it. In spite of her affected disinterest, Taureg’s return had been well worth watching. Which was, she decided, the whole trouble with Ardneavie and Omega and the strangeness of life in the Royal Navy, pitched into it feet first as she had been. Part of her embraced it gratefully whilst the other, the sad, secret part, rejected and resented it, all the while clinging blindly to what had been. Yet this morning, a part of her had been guiltily glad that Taureg had sunk three enemy ships, not to mention the destroyer. Four up for S-Sugar, she had thought with bitter satisfaction.

‘And there was a sailor there – submariner, I think he was – and he asked me for a date, but I said no.’

‘Why?’ Lucinda demanded, eyebrows arched. ‘Bad breath and big ears, or something?’

‘No. He was nice; very nice and rather good-looking, I suppose.’ He would probably have been good to dance with, too. He had only one fault, in fact. He was not Rob MacDonald. ‘But he wasn’t my type, not really.’

The launch bumped gently against the jetty, and the Wren ratings of starboard watch hurried ashore.

‘Oooh. I can smell it from here.’ Lucinda closed her eyes and sniffed the air ecstatically. ‘Liver, with onion gravy. Do hurry, Kendal dear. I’m ravenous!’

They went to cabin 10 that night; Jane because nothing would have kept her away; Lucinda because she had nothing better to do; and Vi reluctantly, because someone had to keep an eye on Lilith and her peculiar ways and maybe, though the eldest of the trio would never have admitted it, because she was more than a little curious about the birthday message. Half of her wanted to believe it; the other half clung to the dogma of her church and rejected it out of hand. One thing, though, was certain. Leading Wren Lilith Penrose would have to be watched, or Lucinda and Jane would be in it, right up to their ear-holes.

‘I thought you’d come,’ Lilith smiled, answering their knock. ‘It works better if you believe.’

‘Believe? Who said anythin’ about believin’?’ Vi demanded bluntly, wanting things straight, right from the start. ‘You know the way it is with me. I’m not messin’ about with no glasses. All I’ve come for is to see fair play.’

‘Then that’s a great pity, Vi, because you’re a true medium, I’m sure of it.’

‘Yer wot? Me? I’m a good Cath’lic, that’s what I am.’

‘And a natural medium in spite of it. But not to worry, we’re going to get somewhere tonight, so let’s make a start, shall we?’

‘Not me. I’m going into Craigiebur.’ To emphasize her words, Connie Dean pulled on her hat.

‘With him?’

‘Yes, Lilith. With him. Again.’

‘Then you’re a fool. When will you get it into your head he’s no good for you? How many times must I say it before it sinks in?’

‘Johnny loves me!’ Connie’s cheeks flamed. ‘And I told him you said he was married and he says it isn’t true.’

‘Then he won’t mind letting you look at his paybook, will he? Paybooks don’t lie.’

‘Oh, shut up, Penrose! You’re bad-minded. You might be boss of the launch, but what I do in my own time is none of your bloody business!’

The door slammed. Angry feet slapped against the stone stairs.

‘Silly little fool. And you can’t blame the men, not entirely. Away from their wives, and girls like Connie handing it out on a plate.’ Shrugging, Lilith slid home the door wedge. ‘But I’m right, I know it. She’ll find out too late, but that’ll be her funeral.’

‘Right about what?’ Vi demanded.

‘That Connie Dean’s going to land herself in big trouble if she doesn’t finish with that man. Apart from being married, he’s got a nasty reputation where the Wrens in this flotilla are concerned. But Connie’s a good-time girl. That’s all she joined up for. Men, and to get away from her parents.’

‘This feller – a submariner, is he?’

‘No, he’s on one of the escort frigates. Johnny Jones. There’s quite a few fancy their chances around here, and I know about them all; but our Johnny’s a real lecher, so be warned.’ Picking up the glass, she began to polish it slowly and carefully, breathing deeply until her anger was gone. Then, smiling, she asked, ‘Sure you won’t join us, Vi?’

Settling herself on the window seat, Vi shook her head. ‘No. Ta, all the same.’

‘Right, then.’ Lilith returned the glass, rim down, to the centre of the table. ‘Pull up your chairs and let’s make a start. Fenny next to me, please.’

‘Will it tell us,’ Jane asked uneasily, ‘or must we ask it?’

‘We’ll see if there are any messages first. If not, we’ll try a question. Now, put your index finger very lightly on the glass, left finger if you’re left-handed. Gently,’ Lilith breathed. ‘Think of the person you want to contact.’

‘Dead or alive?’ Lucinda wasn’t sure.

‘Either, though those who have passed on make better contacts. Concentrate, now. Clear your mind of all negative thoughts and believe. Believe in it with all your heart. Charge it with positive vibrations.’

‘How will we know who the message is for?’ Jane’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes large.

‘The glass will move to the letters and spell out the words, and whoever the message is for will recognize it. Concentrate. Think of your contact. Think hard.’

Jane closed her eyes and made her mind a blank; Lucinda sighed tremulously, and from her seat in the window Vi coughed nervously, yet the glass remained stubbornly still.

‘No messages tonight.’ Lilith removed her finger. ‘We’ll have to ask it. Anyone got a question?’

‘Me! Well – if it’s all right, that is. I don’t know what to do, though.’ Excitement churned inside her and every small pulse in Jane’s body beat dully. Not that anything would happen. It was just an ordinary glass on an ordinary table. Of course it wouldn’t work, but she must try. She must try everything.

‘Take the glass – carefully,’ Lilith warned. ‘Hold it in your hands. Make contact. Talk into it. Believe in it.’

Dry-mouthed, Jane cupped the glass in her palms, lifting it until her lips were level with its rim and her breath filled it.

‘Glass, beautiful glass, what has happened to Rob? If you know, please tell me. And if you can’t tell me, please give me a sign. Please.’ She raised her eyes to Lilith’s.

‘That’s right, Jane. Put it back on the table and everybody try again.’

Four fingers made contact and the glass became a part of them, a living, shining thing. Slowly, it slid across the table.

‘Oh, my God!’ Lucinda gasped.

The glass moved more smoothly, more quickly, then came to rest at the figure zero. Then, without pausing, it moved anti-clockwise around the table, circling the letters again and again, stopping nowhere.

‘It’s charged,’ Lilith breathed, ‘but it isn’t enough. Vi, we need you, too.’

‘Please,’ Jane begged. ‘For me.’

Vi crossed over to the table. Maybe just this once. And she did owe Lilith something for the birthday message.

‘All right, then.’ She closed her mind against Father O’Flaherty’s disapproval. ‘But only for you, Jane.’

Five fingers reached out and the glass began to move again, surer, stronger. S-E-V-E-N. It came to rest precisely beside each letter before coming to a halt in the centre of the table.

‘Well, Jane?’ Lilith asked, nose wrinkled. ‘Does seven mean anything?’

‘It does, oh, it does! Only Rob could have known seven.’ Tears shone in her eyes then spilled down her cheeks. ‘Oh, Lilith …’

‘Now look what you’ve gone and done!’ Vi was on her feet in an instant. ‘You’ve made her cry with your messin’ about. There, now, queen.’ Her arm encircled the shaking shoulders protectively. ‘It’s all right. Dry your eyes, pet. We’re not doin’ it no more.’

‘But Vi, I’m not upset. I’m not crying, not really.’ Jane raised her face, eyes blissfully bright. ‘It’s all right. The message was from Rob. It was.’

‘Good,’ Lilith sighed. ‘Anyone else got a question?’ She challenged Vi with her eyes, demanding she should stay at the table. ‘What about you, Vi? There’s something you want to know, isn’t there? Something you’re not sure about?’

‘Well, I’m not sayin’ I believe it, mind, but I want to know about that happy-birthday message. There’s only one person could’ve sent it and he – he’s dead. Where did it come from? Was it from the glass, Lilith?’

‘No, Vi. The message was between me and him. He sent it, I picked it up. It came through very clearly. He was very insistent.’

‘He’s dead,’ Vi repeated dully.

‘Dead or not, he wanted to say happy birthday.’ Lilith spoke gently, her eyes kind. ‘A lot of love came over, but I sensed that he was restless, and anxious too. Why don’t you try to put his mind at rest, Vi?’

‘I – no!’ She wouldn’t touch that glass again, not if Gerry were trapped in Purgatory for the rest of time, she wouldn’t.

‘Leave it.’ Fenny Cole pushed back her chair. ‘You know what happens if we try to force it, Lilith. We’ve done well enough for one night, and it’ll be standeasy soon. Let’s all try again tomorrow.’

‘Shall we?’ Lilith looked directly at Vi. ‘Tomorrow night, after supper?’

‘I don’t know.’ Vi let go a shuddering breath. ‘I’ll have to think about it.’

‘Well, whatever you decide, you mustn’t talk about this. No one else must ever know,’ Lilith warned. ‘Patsy Pill would have a fit if she found out, and we’d all be at defaulters’.’

No one, they all said. Not a single word to anyone. Not even to the padre next time he came to Ardneavie to hear

Confession, Vi thought grimly. What happened in cabin ten must be a matter of conscience.

‘We’d better be goin’,’ she whispered. ‘Ta-ra, well.’

‘Goodnight.’ Smiling, Lilith held open the door. ‘Blessed be.’

‘It’s cocoa tonight.’ Vi set down the standeasy tray. ‘And I’ve brought up some bread and jam, in case anybody’s hungry.’

They said they weren’t, but they jammed the bread and ate it without speaking.

‘I know you’re both a bit sceptical.’ Lucinda broke the silence. ‘But sometimes it’s uncanny the way those things get at the truth. We used to do something quite like it at school. After lights-out we’d all get up and play with this planchette thing. And it got a hold on us, too. We’d be there for hours, then wake up bog-eyed and fit for nothing next morning. It didn’t take Matron long to realize that something was going on and put a stop to it.’

‘If they work,’ Vi frowned. ‘If what happened tonight wasn’t somebody’s finger pushin’ that glass.’

‘I was the only one who knew about seven, and I didn’t push it, I swear I didn’t,’ Jane said quietly. ‘It was as if it knew exactly where to go.’

‘All right. Maybe it works,’ Vi acknowledged. ‘So if you was me, what would you think about that happy-birthday message I got?’

‘If I were you, Vi, I’d believe what I wanted to believe. If the message could have been from someone you care for, then where’s the harm in it? It’s only if you let it take over your life that it’s wrong.’

‘That’s all right, then.’ Vi’s eyes were clouded and sad. ‘Because I wanted Gerry to remember my birthday. I was so lonely for him I could almost have believed that he did, though I know I mustn’t.’

‘Your church? Eternal damnation, and all that?’ Lucinda smiled. ‘Oh, I think love is stronger than such things. You must care for him a lot, Vi. Gerry – is that his name?’

‘Was. He’s dead. Got killed at sea. Torpedoed.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, truly I am.’ Lucinda’s eyes begged forgiveness. ‘I shouldn’t have asked. Too stupid of me. I didn’t know.’

‘Of course you didn’t. How could you know? Don’t worry, queen. I’ve been bottling it up inside me far too long. Best I should talk about it.’

‘Does talking about it help, do you think?’ Jane’s heart still thudded uneasily. ‘Would talking help take away the pain?’

‘Maybe. They say the pain goes in time, and then you can remember things and be glad. I’m a – a widow, you see. It’s the first time I’ve said that word since Gerry died, but I’ve said it now. Widow.’

‘Vi, I’m so very sorry. I’d no idea. No ring, you see.’

‘I took it off.’ Vi pulled out the chain on which her wedding ring hung. ‘Thought it was better that way. Daft of me, wasn’t it?’

‘No, I can understand.’ Jane’s voice was gentle. ‘There are things you can’t talk about; things you keep inside you – memories, mostly.’

‘Rob? You’ve lost someone, too?’

‘On the eighth of May. Missing from a raid over Germany. We weren’t married, but we were – close.’

‘Poor kid.’ Vi smiled softly. ‘This is a bugger of a war, innit? Why the ’ell did they let it happen? Why didn’t us women get together and tell ’em it wasn’t on? Them that caused this war and them that’s getting fat on it should be made to fight it out between them, not our fellers.’

‘But isn’t there any hope at all for Gerry?’

‘Don’t think so. There was this bloke came to see me. Sailed in the same convoy as Gerry. Told me the Emma Bates got a direct hit. Not a lot of hope. They was carryin’ ammunition, see.’

‘Will it hurt too much to tell us about him?’

‘Hurt? No. All the hurt inside me is for Gerry, really. Never had a crack of the whip, he didn’t. The eldest of thirteen kids. Ma McKeown said thirteen must’ve been her lucky number because she never had no more after that one. But Gerry was never a child. Had to grow up fast, him being the eldest. When he was twelve he lied about his age and went to sea as a cabin boy.’ Vi’s eyes were clouded, her gaze distant, seeing the gates of the Albert Dock, and Gerry walking away from her.

‘Then later he remustered as a stoker, and a right swine of a job that was. On the old coal-burning boats he ended up, shovellin’ coal into red-hot boilers. Always got the shitty end of the stick, Gerry did. That’s why I made a fuss of him when we got married. Nobody had ever made a fuss of Gerry before and he was real chuffed. “You’re a lady,” he’d say. “That’s what you are.” And he treated me like a lady, too, not a shop-girl. Didn’t even mind about me great big feet.’ She smiled. ‘“Only the best for you, girl,” Gerry’d say. Girl. That’s what he called me. That’s why I can half believe what Lilith said. Only me and Gerry knew about that.’

‘So you’ve nothing left now, Vi? Your home – you said it was bombed.’

‘That’s right. Nothing left now, but dreams. Ar hey, lovely, it was. Me an’ Gerry’d build up the kitchen fire and we’d sit there and talk about what we’d do if we won the Irish Sweepstake. “First thing we buy is an ’ouse for you, girl, near your Mary’s,” Gerry’d say, “with a garden and a bathroom.” He wanted a bathroom real bad. Well, dreams are cheap, aren’t they? Like promises. Gerry promised he’d take care, promised to come back to me, but …’

‘Rob promised, too, always to love me,’ Jane whispered. ‘And I’ll always love him. I’ll never forget him. Never.’

‘Oh, dear, I feel quite full up.’ Lucinda felt guilty. Nothing half so terrible had happened to her; no one she loved had been killed or even hurt. Indeed, had it not been for the blazing row with Mama she would still be living with her parents, seeing Charlie twice a week and helping the wounded airmen get back their confidence. And she would still be listening to Mama’s complaining and thinking up excuses for not having the wedding just yet, which hadn’t been fair of her, really, because she did want to marry Charlie. Later, though. She and Charlie had made no promises. He had always been there, like a brother, their relationship easy. He hadn’t proposed to her, either, not actually asked her to marry him. Like everyone else, he had assumed she would. Even Nanny took it for granted. ‘Once you and Captain Charles are married I shall look after your babies, Lucinda, as I looked after you.’ Babies and Charlie. The two seemed inseparable. She and Charlie weren’t in love, not really in love. Their relationship was civilized and uncomplicated, and she wished it could have been that way too for Vi and Jane. ‘Shall we go again to Lilith’s?’ she ventured.

‘Yes!’ Jane’s reply was instant. ‘Oh, I know it’s wrong to believe in such things, but Lilith couldn’t have known about seven, could she?’

‘Is it a special number?’

‘I suppose it is. Seven was the time we used to meet. My mother didn’t like my seeing Rob, so it wasn’t easy for him to get in touch with me. He never knew when he’d be flying, you see, so I’d wait for him every night at seven and hope he’d be there.’

‘Did you know him long, queen?’

‘Not really, though I felt I’d always known him. Thirteen weeks and four days, that was all. Then he went missing.’

‘Three months. It isn’t a lot,’ Vi sympathized. ‘I was luckier than you. Me and Gerry had four years. But missing isn’t – well, there’s a chance for your Rob, isn’t there? One day there’ll be a letter tellin’ you he’s all right, just you see if there isn’t.’

‘There won’t, Vi. I’m not his next of kin. The Air Force will write to his mother if there’s anything to tell, and the awful part of it is that I don’t know where she lives. Somehow, Rob didn’t get around to telling me where. He meant to, but addresses didn’t seem important – well, not until it was too late. All I know is that he lived in Glasgow. Funny, isn’t it, loving someone the way I loved Rob yet knowing so little about him.’

‘No clues? Did he mention where he went to school?’ Lucinda jammed a second slice of bread.

‘No. Only that he got a scholarship to the local academy. And I know he worked in insurance, but there must be hundreds of insurance offices, and dozens of schools.’

‘And he never mentioned the street he lived in – even casually?’

‘Never, though he did say his local picture house was the Pavilion and I know his mother took her loaves to be baked at a place called Jimmy McFadden’s bakery, but they’re not in the phone book, either of them. I’ve looked.’

‘Then you’ll have to be patient, won’t you; wait till he gets in touch with you. And one day there’ll be a letter, I’ll bet you anything you like there will.’

‘Or a message,’ Jane said softly, ‘like tonight. We will go to Lilith’s again, Vi. You won’t try to persuade me not to?’

‘No, queen, I’ll not do that. But it won’t be tomorrow nor Friday because I’m on late duty those nights. But we’ll go, all of us, just as soon as we can make it.’

And get to the bottom of that Lilith woman and her tricks – if tricks they were …